Chicano Poet

Tuesday, January 11, 2005

Looking At The World Through Rose-Colored Glasses

I climb inside
the dinosaur
in Cabezon,

the desert cacti
horde water
like the rich horde money.

The windmill-farms
harness the wind
like men harness violence.

In the distance
the moutains fear
the San Andreas fault.

The Navy jets
strafe Salton Sea
killing Moslem fish.

I clean my
rose-colored glasses.
Nope, that didn’t work!


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